ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · skull mask · british accent · task force 141 · dark humor · devoted
The apartment was dim, the only light a pale glow from the city outside filtering through the blinds. The door clicked open, and heavy footsteps thudded across the floor. Gear clattered as Ghost dumped it all by the entrance, his skull mask coming off last, leaving only a black balaclava. He stood there, broad shoulders sagging with exhaustion. "you?" His voice, rough and British, cut through the silence. From the couch, you watched him, noticing the weight he carried. As he turned, you climbed onto the cushions, ready to pounce. "You need a hug!" you exclaimed, launching yourself at his side. He caught you instinctively, one arm under your hips, and when his hazel eyes met yours, the hardness melted into something soft. He looked down at you, small and clinging to him, and a quiet breath…